The rest of the summer literally flies by. Her mom attends her regular AA meetings and Quinn drives her to and from every single one of them. They always get dinner and hot chocolate from a local diner in Morris before heading back home and it's kind of nice to just sit down and relax with her mom.

She's brought her mom up to speed with the current happenings of her life: Angie, her job, volunteering and her quiet aspirations of becoming a doctor. Her mom doesn't laugh at all at her admission. Instead, she sheepishly tells Quinn that she wanted to be nurse when she was younger and her father didn't support her. Her mom doesn't like the concept of Quinn talking to a social worker right away, but after Quinn introduces Angie to her mom, things start looking up. It helps that Angie is so supportive and helpful with college and scholarship stuff.

Her car situation doesn't ever really fix itself, but that's okay. Between her mom, Sam and Santana she doesn't really need a car of her own.

In fact, there are even times when they end up fighting over who's going to drive her around. Like today.


"Do you need a ride tomorrow?" Sam suddenly asks, looking at Quinn right next to him.

"What's tomorrow?" Santana chimes in before screaming at Mike Chang. The four of them are hanging out in Quinn's basement, utilizing Quinn's ridiculously large TV to play video games. Well, the three of them are playing and Quinn is working on her 'dorky' crossword puzzle.

Quinn and Sam both look at Santana with incredulous looks on their faces.

"…The first day of school," Quinn says slowly and Mike and Sam try not to laugh. Santana looks at her like she's trying to comprehend what she just said. Then it clicks.

"Oh, crap," She says out loud. "That's right."

Sam laughs.

"Wow San, senioritis before we're even seniors," Sam jokes, earning a punch from Santana.

"Shut it, Bieber," She scolds him before turning to Quinn. "You're getting a ride from me." There isn't even a question being posed here. Santana looks back at Sam.

"Don't you have to drop off mini Sam and mini Quinn anyways? It's like, their first day of real school. For like, ever. Isn't it?"

Sam just stares at Santana.

"…Yeah. How do you even know that?"He asks. Santana just scoffs.

"Please," She waves it off and turns her attention back to the game. Sam just scratches his head and looks sideways at Quinn. Quinn laughs, because sometimes it's hard to believe that these two actually dated. And although that was a complete bust, they're doing pretty great as friends now (or bros, as Santana calls it). The only reminder that they have about their dating history is Sam occasionally singing Santana's magnum opus 'Trouty Mouth' and that's always a riot.

"Well you did tell us how excited you are to make them dinosaur shaped pb&j sandwiches," Mike chimes in and Santana laughs. It's nice that Mike hangs out with them once in a while. He manages to keep up with Santana in Call of Duty and Sam appreciates his 'testosterone in a sea of estrogen.' He's actually pretty cool and Quinn's glad that she's getting to know him more outside of glee club.

"They're really cool sandwich cutters!" Sam says with a slightly offended tone, defending his 'awesome' dinosaur sandwich molds.

"They are cool," Quinn explains with all seriousness, putting her hands up. "He makes them for lunch at work. I kind of want one too."

Santana and Mike burst out laughing.


Quinn's first day of art class is a little nerve wrecking. She's never really tried to take a formal art class before and she's definitely never had anyone look at and judge her serious art work. She's hoping this class will be a nice change from her ridiculous Advanced Placement class laden schedule. She comes in early, like she always does for every class, and sits off to the side quietly. Santana walks in a minute later and she immediately plops down next to Quinn.

"I has a problem," Santana starts as soon as she sits down. Quinn knits her eyebrows together at Santana's hushed tone.

"You didn't kill anyone did you?" She asks, half serious.

"Wha—no! Why is that always everyone's first response?" Santana lets out an appalled sound, looking at her with her mouth slightly open. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "Anyhow, homicidal thoughts aside, Coach Sylvester cornered me."

Santana looks at her expectantly.

"Is she still mad about you abusing your tanning privileges long after they were overdue?" Quinn muses.

"Okay, a, I wasn't abusing, I was just taking my time saying goodbye to those lovely tanning beds and b, that wasn't what she wanted to talk to me about."

"What'd she say then?"

"She needs cheerleaders. Everyone's quitting on her and she's running for a congressional seat so she doesn't really want to look like a bad coach," Santana explains as people start filing into the room.

"She wants you to join the Cheerios again?" Quinn asks quietly, suddenly realizing what's going on here.

"Yeah," Santana says and Quinn can't really read her reaction. "Brittany already said yes."

There it is.

"Oh," Quinn says slowly. "Is she still with Artie?"

Santana frowns but doesn't say anything. Quinn takes that as a yes and sighs.


"Why don't you just try and be friends with her again?" Quinn suggests off handedly while they're both getting ready for gym class. It's been three weeks since school started and not much progress has been made with the Brittany situation. Santana's been very good at keeping Brittany at bay while keeping her close at the same time. "She told me she just wants everything to be the same again."

Santana doesn't look at her. She doesn't say anything either. Quinn just shrugs it off, finishing up with her gym shoes and getting up from the bench.

"She's so innocent," Santana says quietly, not getting up from the bench. They're alone in the locker room now and if they don't start moving anytime soon, they're both going to be late for roll call. But Quinn thinks that's out of the question.

"It's never going to be the same," Santana says with gritted teeth, tying her shoelaces harshly. "It's not that fucking easy."

Quinn sits back down next to her and she stares at the lockers. Santana's never going to talk to her about this. Not at this rate. They might be friends now, real friends, but this isn't something she's going to be able to talk to Quinn about.

And that really, really sucks.

"Hey," Quinn starts quietly. "Let's grab some ice cream after school. I promise not to make gagging noises when you order mint chocolate chip."

Santana looks up at her and rolls her eyes. There's a hint of a smile, but Santana's Santana so she's obviously not going to be jumping in joy and clapping her hands anytime soon.

"Fine, twist my arm," Santana mumbles, getting up and holding out an arm to help Quinn up.

They both end up running extra laps around the gym for being late to roll call.


Walking into the local ice cream store, Quinn immediately spots Kurt and his boyfriend. What was his name? Dane? Wayne? Blaine?

They end up peering over the ice cream together; pointing out which ones they want to try before picking a flavor.

"What are you getting?" Blaine asks Santana with a toothy grin. Santana gives him one side look before looking back at the ice cream.

"Mint chocolate," Santana says with a smirk before nodding her head towards Quinn. "Just because it grosses her out."

Kurt gasps next to Blaine.

"Blasphemy! It's the greatest ice cream concoction ever created!" he says with an appalled look on his face. Blaine nods.

"I'm going to have to agree with that. I would die without mint chocolate," Blaine offers.

"See?" Santana turns to look at Quinn. "Normal people. There's obviously something wrong with you."

Quinn just rolls her eyes.

While waiting for their ice cream, Blaine says something hilarious and Kurt laughs, nudging him from the side. Quinn admits that they're both pretty cool and she notices that Santana looks like she's laughing too.

Sitting at the round table with the three of them, Quinn notices Santana looking over at Blaine and Kurt whenever they're being all couple-y and in their own world. And then Quinn gets it.

She might not be the right person for Santana to talk to, but Kurt and Blaine…

"Excuse me," Quinn says suddenly, getting up and grabbing her purse. The three of them look at her in surprise.

"You okay there, Q?" Santana asks her.

"Yeah," Quinn replies, moving out of her little corner. "I just need to go to the bathroom really quick."

She waves it off and walks towards the bathroom. Once she's out of sight, she hurriedly takes out her phone and sends a text.


She comes back to the table a few minutes later and she picks up her ice cream cup and joins in with their conversation. They're all raving about Breadstix and Santana's in the middle of recounting her wheelbarrow story when Quinn's phone goes off.

"Hi mom," Quinn says into the speaker. She covers the receiver with her hands and shushes the three of them. Santana darts her tongue out and Blaine covers his mouth to stop himself from laughing at Santana's hilarious story.

"I'm just at the ice cream parlor," Quinn continues talking, ignoring the three of them who are making faces to try and make her laugh. "Oh, that was today? I'm so sorry, I totally forgot. I'll be right there."

Quinn puts the phone against her chest and looks at Santana.

"I forgot that I promised my mom that I'd go with her somewhere today," Quinn apologizes, looking around the table.

"You're so lame," Santana says with an eye roll. She laughs after a second. "Just kidding, have fun with your mom."

"It was nice seeing you again," Blaine tells her. "Even though it's almost shameful that you don't like mint chocolate.

"Yes Quinn," Kurt adds before she walks away from the table. "I did enjoy our little rendezvous, despite your dismal taste in ice cream."

"Rocky road will always be the best," Quinn says, defending her ice cream choice, before waving goodbye and walking out of the store. She takes one last look at Santana chatting with Kurt and Blaine before putting the phone back up against her ear.

"Thanks for doing that," She tells the other person on the line.

"It really is no problem. I'm glad I was able to help you and practice my acting skills at the same time. Although, I still don't quite comprehend why I had to go and pretend to be your mother."

Quinn rolls her eyes. Rachel didn't have to act like her mom, it's not like anyone would see her in the first place.

"It's a really long story."

"You can always tell me in person. I do believe people still meet organically these days. And then we can work on our chemistry and biology lab reports together."

Quinn thinks about it for a second before realizing that she actually has nothing better to do that night.

"Sure, let me go home and get my laptop."


It's not until a week and a half later that Santana says anything remotely related to how she feels about Brittany. They're bumming around in Quinn's basement, watching the newest Jersey Shore episode when Santana opens her mouth to speak.

"So, like…" She trails off, picking at the popcorn in front of her. Quinn lightly taps her hand and gives her a warning look.

"Stop playing with food," Quinn scolds her. Santana just rolls her eyes, dramatically dropping the popcorn back into the bowl and holding her hands up.

"Jesus, Q," She huffs. "I'm trying to be all serious here and your OCD or whatever is interrupting."

Quinn just raises an eyebrow before getting a handful of popcorn and looking back at the TV.

"Kurt and Blaine suggested the craziest idea the other day," Santana starts again, this time looking straight at the TV. "I mean, I talked to them, and stuff, about all these like feelings and shit."

"Mhmm," Quinn hums, urging her to continue. She doesn't know why, but she can literally feel her heart pounding in her throat. It's not like she's the one about to share one of the biggest revelations of her life in the room, but she's still anxious regardless. But she's a pro at this, so she keeps a calm and disinterested face. Because that's really how Santana rolls.

"I think," Santana hesitates. "No, I know that I like Brittany. And not like, in a biffles kind of way. But, in like, a 'she makes me happy and I'd kill for us to be like Jay-Z and Beyonce' kind of way."

Quinn actually snorts and Santana looks at her with a slightly offended look.

"I'm sorry," Quinn says between laughs. "I just can't believe you tried to tell me you have romantic feelings for Brittany by comparing you two to Jay-Z and Beyonce."

Santana's mouth opens in a shocked manner and she shoves the laughing Quinn aside.

"What?" She asks incredulously. "They're like the world's awesomest power couple. Britts and I can run the world like that."

Quinn calms down and settles back in her seat.

"Oh, trust me," she tells Santana, who's looking at her with an apprehensive expression. "I believe that you two can do just that."

She shakes her head and smiles before looking back at the TV.

"That's it?" Santana says in disbelief.

"What's it?" Quinn asks, looking at her with a confused look.

"That's all you have to say? No preaching about Jesus and God and sins and all that shit that they shove down people's throats at church?"

Quinn looks at her seriously before shrugging and smiling.

"San," She starts, lowering the volume on the TV. "I don't really know if I still believe in some of the things that I was taught growing up. I've been around so many people that continue to prove all those hateful words wrong: Kurt and Blaine, Rachel's dad…"

Quinn trails off, thinking of the exact words to say to get her point across.

"But why should I care about who you love and who makes you happy?" She smiles her small smile and Santana just stares at her. "You're still the same San who ran three red lights to get me from the hospital without asking any questions."

She can tell by the way that Santana's expression that she's still processing what she just said. Yeah, it's a roundabout way of saying that to Quinn, Santana's still the same person—one of her best friends—but that's how they work.

"Well good," Santana finally says, relaxing back into the couch. "Ima need a wingman or whatever."

Quinn smirks.

"I'd think twice about that," Quinn jokes. "I'm kind of hot."

Santana bursts out laughing.

"Bitch please," She tells Quinn with a raised eyebrow. She purses her lips and looks back at the TV.

"Except, like, I don't know if it's just Britts or if I'm actually like…"

Santana trails off hesitantly and Quinn doesn't look at her. Baby steps.

"You know, like that," she finally finishes off and Quinn nods.

"Did you talk to Kurt or Blaine?" Quinn asks innocently. "They'd probably be able to help you."

Santana shrugs.

"Yeah," Santana starts. "They're pretty cool and helpful. Except they had some bat-shit cray cray ideas."

"Like what?" Quinn asks before taking a sip of water.

"Like kissing Berry to see if I—ew, Q!" Santana screams as Quinn literally starts choking on the water and spews the water.

"Sorry," Quinn mumbles, reaching over the table to get a roll of paper towels.

"Contain that shit," Santana yells at her, wiping her arm. "Anyhow, I laughed at their idea. As if."

Quinn laughs.


"Hey, about that thing I said," Santana says as she's about to leave Quinn's house later that night. "Can you like not mention it to, um, anyone?"

"Or I'll cut you," She adds as an afterthought but Quinn knows she's kidding.

"Yeah, secret's safe with me," Quinn says as she rolls her eyes. Santana looks at her seriously and Quinn softens.

"I mean it San," She explains. "I got yo back, as you would say."

Santana visibly relaxes before crunching her eyebrows together.

"What was that? Don't talk like that again," She says incredulously. "You're so white sometimes, it's painful."

"Whatever," Quinn responds, shaking her head at her.

"Anyhow, I'll see you tomorrow," Santana mumbles. "Peace out."

"Night," Quinn replies.